


All That We Sever

by danceswithgary



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, Episode Related, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-11-09
Updated: 2008-11-09
Packaged: 2017-10-04 00:55:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You see, the thing is, McKay, I've never been quite good enough. I keep losing what I love. I've decided that's not going to happen anymore."</p>
            </blockquote>





	All That We Sever

[  
Click For Full Size](http://pics.livejournal.com/danceswithgary/pic/000g7d6t)

 

 

John held the door open for the final guest, his face aching from an endless day of forced smiles and platitudes. "I appreciate you coming out here, Nancy and, uh...thanks for your help...before."

 

Leaning up to place a careful kiss on John's cheek, Nancy shook her head sadly, as she took a step back. "John, I know it'll never happen, but I'm going to make the offer anyway.  If you need someone to talk to, give me a call. To lose both of them so close together...."

 

"Sure, I appreciate the thought. Thanks." They were the right words, but John's tone and demeanor made them as meaningless as the other polite phrases he'd repeated all day to his father's and brother's acquaintances and business associates. He managed to keep the smile from slipping into the pained rictus that had threatened all day, dropping it from his face with relief as the door closed behind his ex-wife.

 

Slipping past the caterers clearing up the remains of the day, John shambled toward the study, intending to take refuge behind the thick oak doors. Unfortunately, a stern-faced woman intercepted him a few steps short of his goal. "Will you be requiring anything else this evening, Colonel Sheppard? A light supper, perhaps?"

 

John waved away the suggestion, "No thanks, Mrs. Stapleton. I'm just going check on a few things and then call it a night."

 

"If you change your mind...."

 

"Then I'm sure I'll manage to find my way to the kitchen, even without a map." A smile softened the brusque response, John unwilling to take his frustration out on the woman who was only trying to do her job. "Good night."

 

"Good night, sir."

 

As John slipped inside the study, closing and locking the heavy doors behind him, he sighed in relief as he shut out the rest of the world. A reluctant smile twitched at his lips when he thought about sitting down and drawing the map he'd mentioned. Rodney would have appreciated the humor after years of complaining about John's missing sense of direction. In his defense, it had been years since he'd spent any time in the mansion, so it wasn't surprising that he'd managed to get lost for a while the first night he'd arrived. He had to admit he might have wandered the halls for a while longer if the housekeeper hadn't decided to check on him.

 

Ignoring the massive mahogany desk in favor of the sideboard holding cut-glass decanters and tumblers, John selected the honey-gold bourbon he preferred. A short splash extended to two fingers of the well-aged whiskey, and John carried his prize to the leather sofa where he subsided with a groan. After a few sips, he set the glass on a nearby table, slid a little further down into the cushions, and rested his weary head against the back, allowing his tired, burning eyes to flutter shut.

 

"Doesn't matter what galaxy you're in, does it, Colonel? Beautiful women just keep throwing themselves at you."

 

"Yeah, that's right, McKay. The problem is that, unlike the suave and sophisticated James T. Kirk, whenever I do manage to catch one...I drop her. Nancy's a good example of just how hopeless I am when it comes to women...or relationships, for that matter." 

 

"Your marriage couldn't have been all bad. She didn't seem all that eager to leave."

 

"That's because she wasn't the problem. Everyone loved Nancy, especially my dad. The best thing I ever did, according to him, was to marry her."

 

"So, if she was so perfect, what happened?"

 

"She used to complain that she didn't know one thing about me that she hadn't learned before we were married. What it all came down to in the end was I could never give her what she needed."

 

"What did she think she needed?"

 

"More than I was willing to share. There are parts of me, who I am, what I've done, that no one should ever see."

 

"Tell me, Colonel. Are you trying to spare _them_ the pain of knowing who you really are...or _yourself_?"

 

"Damn it, McKay, can't you ever give it a rest?"

 

 

 

!^!^!

 

 

 

"I'm certain we'll be able to find a buyer, Mr., uh, Colonel Sheppard. After all, with the house and the outbuildings, as well as all the stock, it's a remarkable offering."

 

John stepped back out of range of the realtor's wildly enthusiastic gestures and summoned the ghost of a polite smile. "I'm sure it'll all work out fine, Mr. Treadwell. I'm just going to take one last look around the house and grounds, and then I'll be out of your way."

 

"Of course, here are the keys. Just let me know if there's anything, anything at all I can do...." It was obvious that the prospect of the sizable commission he would be earning was responsible for the man gasping a little in his excitement.

 

After accepting the proffered key ring, John shook his head, countering the other's assumptions with, "Actually, that's where you're mistaken, Mr. Treadwell. You don't work for me because I don't own the place. It's part of my brother's estate, and I wasn't mentioned in his will. Everything goes to some cousins on my mother's side and some charitable foundations my brother was interested in supporting. Now, I'll just have that look around, and then I'll bring back the keys. It shouldn't take long."

 

As predicted, John's personal tour didn't take long and he handed the keys back with a grateful nod of his head. As he ambled toward his car, squinting in the midday sun as he searched his pocket for his errant sunglasses, he suddenly changed direction and angled his steps towards a large oak standing at the corner of one of the paddocks. Reaching his new destination, he leaned back against the rough bark to stand looking out over the lines of fence and the fields beyond. His fatigue-sunken eyes lost some of their focus as he recalled years of hot summer days spent at a gallop.

 

"It's not too late to contest the will, Colonel. You could certainly present a good case for keeping the place in the Sheppard name."

 

"That's where you're wrong, McKay. I'm the last. After I'm gone, there won't be any Sheppards left, so why bother? This hasn't been home for me for over twenty years, there's nothing here I need."

 

"So you're giving it up, just like that?"

 

"Yeah, along with pretty much everything else."

 

"Based on what's happened in the past few weeks, everything includes Atlantis."

 

"Yes, especially Atlantis."

 

"That's what I don't understand. Why would you do that?"

 

"You see, the thing is, McKay, I've never been quite good enough. I keep losing what I love. I've decided that's not going to happen anymore."

 

"And your brilliant plan is to just give up and walk away? To dump whatever and whomever happens to be too important for you to take a chance on losing? That has to be one of the most idiotic things I've ever heard...and believe me...I've listened to all too many stupid people in my life, Colonel."

 

"Yeah, well, it's the best plan I've been able to come up with."

 

"That's why I'm on the team. Remember?"

 

"So come up with a better plan, McKay. I'm waiting."

 

 

 

!^!^!

 

 

 

The lamp balanced on the edge of a cedar trunk shed a spare circle of cool light in the dusty attic, doing little to dispel the shadows creeping in on every side. The single window that John had managed to pry open did little to relieve the gloom, but the limited light wasn't enough to discourage him from poking through the boxes and chests scattered around the isolated room.

 

A glass-fronted bookcase yielded a set of moldering photo albums and, after grabbing a couple at random, John pulled a dustcover from an antique rocking chair to take a seat. Flipping through the pages, he smiled at the pictures of garden parties and racing meets, laughing children riding ponies around a grassy paddock. Rocking gently in the twilit refuge, he rested his head against the intricately carved back and peered at what remained of his family's history, blinking away the dust with progressively heavier eyelids.

 

"Sorting through the debris of the past, Colonel? Find any maps pointing to buried treasure?"

 

"The Sheppards may have been around before the American Revolution but, as far as I know, there weren't any pirates in my family tree."

 

"Amazing, you've revealed a heretofore unknown fact about John Sheppard. Did Nancy know about your illustrious heritage?"

 

"Not unless my dad told her when I wasn't around. I've never really cared about upholding family traditions, which was a big part of why my dad and I didn't get along. He expected me to end up with an Ivy League MBA and a corner office in the family business. I wanted to succeed on my own merits, not my family's name or money, so I left."

 

"So, running away from responsibility is nothing new for you. Better yet, it seems as if you've lived a sort of personal 'don't ask, don't tell' policy all your life."

 

"Fuck you, McKay. What gives you the right to pass judgment on me?"

 

"You gave me the right when you made me part of your excuse for giving up. Tell me this, Colonel. Why is it that you find it easier to sacrifice your life for me than to stay and share it?"

 

 

 

!^!^!

 

 

 

 

"It's a widely held belief that most people actually sleep at night. Of course, I'm the exception that proves the rule but, in my experience, you're not."

 

"Won't be the first time your observations have been incorrect, McKay. Besides, I'm not tired."

 

"A blatant lie easily disproved with a single glance in the closest mirror. What's wrong, Colonel? Is that ink-stained morass of financial and legal documents you've been wading through keeping you awake?"

 

"I've had a few rough days and some bad dreams. No big deal."

 

"Days? It's been weeks since you've had a good night's sleep. Somehow, I'm finding it hard to believe your days are responsible for that. You can't possibly claim your epic battles with lawyers, stockbrokers, and charitable foundations are more dangerous or frightening than an encounter with the Wraith."

 

"Oddly enough, McKay, a fear of either variety of life-sucking horrors attaching themselves to me hasn't featured prominently in my dreams."

 

"Ah, yes. As I recall from our shared experience, your worst nightmare involves letting down the people you feel responsible for, failing to save them from the danger and death that lurks around every corner. I'm curious, Colonel. How does it feel to be safe here on Earth and living your dream?"

 

 

 

!^!^!

 

 

 

The bold knock at the study door jolted John awake and out of his chair with reflexes honed by years spent at high alert. Scrubbing his face with a shaking hand, he called out, "Yes?"

 

 Obviously interpreting the response as an invitation, the housekeeper opened the door slowly to announce, "Colonel Sheppard, you have a visitor."

 

"This time of night?" John advanced a few steps toward the door, suspicion fizzing through his veins. "Is something wrong...Rodney?"

 

Shoving his way into the room like the force of nature he so often imitated, Rodney quickly verified his unexpected presence. "Yes, there _is_ something wrong. In point of fact, there have been entirely too many things going wrong for entirely too long." Almost unnoticed in the wake of Hurricane Rodney, the door clicked closed. "My flight was delayed for hours by fog, the stupid airline lost my luggage, then _I_ got lost driving out to the backwoods of Virginia. It's dark out there and I kept looking for fences...horses...something that said Sheppard's here playing gentleman farmer. Ronon said...."

 

Frozen in place, John stared at the disheveled and angry-looking man stalking toward him, finally managing to sputter, "Yeah, that was a...different estate...uh...Dave's. This place...uh...it's the one my dad left me. Uh...can I get you a drink?"

 

The fist was unexpected, although John suspected he probably deserved it.

 

Dabbing at the blood trickling from the side of his mouth, John shouted, "What the fuck's your problem, McKay!"

 

The floodgates opened. "My problem? My _problem_, you asshole, started when you and Ronon left me behind at Jeannie's, so that you two could go back to Atlantis and play soldier. Of course, that wasn't a problem until you never made it back to Atlantis because of your father's funeral, the funeral that I only found out about after I was beamed up to the Apollo to help with your little replicator problem."

 

Hands waving to match the passion in his voice, Rodney continued his tirade. "They're called _telephones_, Sheppard, handy little gadgets, been in use for years. We get that mess cleared up, you send Ronon and me back to Atlantis so you can spend some quality time with your brother, and then you never come home. Listen, I understand that you're upset about losing your father and your brother, but it's hard for any of us to do or say anything to you about it because you don't answer emails from any of us and, by the way, it's _impossible_ to make those handy little gadgets work from the Pegasus galaxy.  I should also warn you that Ronon offered me his stunner when I said I was coming here, Teyla isn't terribly pleased with you, and I'm beginning to develop severe abandonment issues."

 

"Yeah, about that...."

 

"Fucking hell, John! We've been sleeping in each other's bed for the past year or so, shared food, showers, and toothbrushes...not to mention the creative activities involving each other's dick, all while managing to keep it our business and no one else's. Tell me, is there any reasonable explanation you can offer as to why I had to find out from Sam Carter about your retirement, _seven weeks after the date the paperwork was filed_?"

 

"I'm not retired."

 

"Try again, this time with details."

 

"O'Neill wouldn't accept it. He pulled some strings, forced a temporary transfer through to Andrews, and then used that to grant post-deployment downtime, for as long as I needed to 'get my head screwed back on straight' or ninety days, whichever came first. I'm assuming it's all legal and that I'm not going to end up being taken away in handcuffs for being AWOL."

 

"That's odd. When Sam called me into her office to inform me of some pending reassignments, she left me with the distinct impression you weren't coming back. You make it sound as if you've been planning on returning all along."

 

"I...I didn't say that."

 

"It's been _seventy-six days_, John. Your grace period for head-straightening has almost expired and your retirement paperwork is still in the pending file. I checked."

 

"Listen, do we...do we have to do this right now? You look...I mean I could use some sleep myself...to clear my head." Avoiding Rodney's eyes, John detoured around him to reach the study door, holding it open as Rodney stomped out into the hall.  Waving in the general direction of the gently curved staircase, John blurted quick directions. "Guest room's always ready, first door on the right. See you at breakfast?"

 

The left corner of Rodney's mouth took on a deeper downward curve as his eyes lost the heightened gleam of emotion. He nodded slowly in agreement, even as his shoulders slumped a little further in silent defeat. "Sure, as long as you promise not to skip town before I wake up."

 

 

 

!^!^!

 

 

 

John hovered just inside the doorway of the first room on the right, his senses tuned to every scrape and creak of the restless sleeper. There was just enough starlight to distinguish vague shapes, so John knew that he wouldn't trip and fall if...when he decided to walk a little closer to the bed. The faint susurration of Rodney's breathing, the once-familiar scent of sweat and electric fatigue layered with a hint of salt from a distant ocean, drew him forward. He didn't think he'd made a sound, but something brought Rodney lurching upwards in the bed, disoriented in a dark, strange place.

 

"John?"

 

When John failed to acknowledge him, Rodney huffed in exasperation and stretched to the side to reach for the lamp on the nightstand.

 

"Don't..." The choked protest that escaped John stopped Rodney short. "I...leave it off."

 

"What's wrong?" Rodney's earlier anger had dissipated, replaced by concern. "I thought we weren't going to do this tonight."

 

"It's not like I'm going to be able to sleep anyway." John frowned at the whine that had crept into his voice while he wasn't paying attention. He fell back on an old trick and lightened his tone to teasing as he shuffled closer to the bed. "So...creative activities?"

 

Rodney stiffened and drew back, the gleam of his eyes hinting that he was attempting to decipher John's expression in the dim light. "Very, genius-level creativity," he responded with characteristic pride. His voice dipped into a lower, rougher register as he continued, "However, I think the proof of that needs to be placed on hold until I understand what's going on here, John. I'm not interested in 'so long, Rodney' sex, however incredible it might be."

 

Knees buckling at depth of hurt that had vibrated through Rodney's refusal, John dropped to the edge of the bed protesting, "Jesus, no, I wasn't. It's not that. I...it was Elizabeth and Carson, that whole dream thing, then you and Wallace, my dad, and then Dave had his accident before I'd even said goodbye to you. I keep on losing or almost losing the things I...lo...really care about. I came here to straighten some stuff out, and I guess...I thought that I'd decided that I couldn't let it happen anymore."

 

 

"Losing...? And your brilliant plan was to just give up everything, give up Atlantis, break up your team, and...walk away? To leave behind whatever and whoever happens to be important to you? You...you...son of a bitch! This is one of those times when I think you might be too stupid to live and I end up wondering why I'm still trying so hard to keep you around."

 

"I wonder about that too, sometimes. After everything I did, making you think I was quitting on you, why did you come after me?"

 

"I'm here because ninety-nine point nine percent of the time you're worth the effort and, despite the fact that my genius does not shine when it comes to interpersonal communication and relationships, I still have a much better life plan than the one you came up with."

 

"And it is?"

 

"Outside of winning the Nobel Prize, of course, it's basically the opposite of yours. You know...trying to _keep_ what you were trying to throw away, for as long as I possibly can."

 

"Hunh. It's a pretty good plan. Mind if I steal it?"

 

"I'm going to assume that you're brain-dead from exhaustion, otherwise you never would have asked such an idiotic question. It happens to be the best damn personal investment plan ever devised, and you'd be well-advised to implement it post-haste." Rodney shoved John off the bed and jerked the bedcovers back with an impatient huff. "In the meantime, lose the jeans, you moron, and get in here. _To sleep._"

 

"Right. Post-haste." Shucking sneakers and jeans was a matter of seconds, and John quickly shuttled beneath the waiting covers, sliding close as Rodney settled back down on the mattress. "Uh...did you know that..." John halted for a moment, his tired brain struggling to fill his sudden need to share something, anything, about himself with the one person who'd never asked. The warmth of Rodney's well-worn t-shirt beneath his hand sparked a connection and words tumbled free. "...the reason I wear so much black is because I really suck at the whole color-matching thing when I wear civvies?"

 

"No, I would have to say that particular piece of John Sheppard trivia has never surfaced before, although it certainly makes a lot of sense, now that you mention it. It would be a lot easier for me to respond if I understood what point you were trying to make."

 

"I never told you about my wife."

 

"I did notice the omission. Ronon filled me in a little, but...."

 

"And that doesn't bother you? She...she would have used it as another example of...why...she and I...we never worked out. She hated that I wouldn't try to change for her...wouldn't answer her questions."

 

"I should think it's pretty apparent that I'm not your wife, John."

 

"No, you're not...you're...more...than she ever was. I couldn't tell you if she ever had a pet or played an instrument or the name of the first guy she kissed in high school. I never wanted to find out anything about her...or...or cared enough to try to remember something as simple as what kind of jello she liked best...or if she even liked jello." John slid closer, curving his body until his leg matched Rodney's from knee to hip and his arm from shoulder to wrist.  "Cat, piano, April Bingham, blue." The pride in John's voice as he recited was fleeting, reduced to a shamed mutter, "Me...I never...."

 

A warm palm slid along John's flat belly in a calming stroke, rucking up his t-shirt for a moment along the way. "Hey, you tell me what I need to know, I mean, you do most of the time. Hell, I've been there with you for the majority of the really vital stuff the last four years. Whatever's been going on with you the past four months or so...I'll admit that you could have been a little more forthcoming. Still, I get it, I really do. I've never told you anything about my parents, and the only reason you know about Jeannie...I get it, John."

 

"I...you really do. Hunh."

 

"The thing is, I never wanted you because of what you could be if you changed. I mean...it was always just you, as-is, stupid laugh, rakish hair, unfathomable affinity for Johnny Cash and all."

 

"Wanted."

 

Rodney rolled to his side before stretching forward to kiss John lightly, a gentle swipe across his lips. "Want. It's most definitely want...to an extent that almost scares me to death sometimes when I wake up alone in the middle of the night."

 

"But...don't you...uh...want to know more about...me?"

 

"I...maybe? I mean to say...we've spent a lot of time together, John, and...I.... You mean to tell me that you haven't yet picked up that I don't usually ask people personal questions? In fact, I've had women mention that particular failing as one of the many reasons not to date me a second time. I've just never considered it a serious enough character flaw to attempt to change. I've always assumed that if people think something's important, they'll tell me, you'll tell me. And you have. Outside of Jeannie, I probably know more about you than anyone else I've ever spent time with."

 

"Yeah, I guess you do." Clamping his arm even tighter around Rodney's waist, John ducked his head against Rodney's shoulder, turning his face into the pillow until his words were slightly muffled. "You know, it turns out that I never did miss _you_ all that much, Rodney."

 

Rodney's huff didn't sound half as angry as John had anticipated, and the knot at the base of John's neck began to unravel, the chill of the past weeks finally retreating, replaced by Rodney's familiar warmth. "I know I should probably be insulted by that revelation, but your claim seems to be contradicted by the fact that you're holding on to me so tightly that my ability to breathe is beginning to be a real concern." Rodney shifted to tuck John's head into the soft valley between his shoulder and chest, while his freed arm pulled John a little closer. His other hand began to sift through John's hair, gently scratching his scalp the way Rodney always did when they both needed time to decompress. "Perhaps you'd care to elaborate?"

 

John sank a little deeper into his cocoon, the need for long-delayed comfort overriding desire. An impatient nudge roused him just enough to attempt an explanation that would grant him a reprieve of at least a few hours. "It's...um...kind of hard to put it in words without sounding a little crazy."

 

"Try or you might miss out on 'creative activities' come morning." The fingers tightening in John's hair were another incentive to stay awake long enough to answer.

 

Sighing, John shrugged his shoulders as much as their respective positions would allow, and hoped Rodney would be able to interpret what he mumbled as John let go and fell headlong into the dark.

 

"I never left you behind."

**Author's Note:**

> Shatter by Feeder
> 
> Coming around my senses torn  
> It's no illusion it's here, everyday I bleed  
> As long as you see it, as long as you know  
> As long as you fake it, nobody knows
> 
> Break down again I'm suffering  
> My head's out of sync, and I can't hide the pain
> 
> Is this the ending or is this the start?  
> All that we sever  
> All that we are  
> Communication connected apart  
> Promises given the cross of a heart
> 
> Break down again I'm suffering  
> My head's out of sync  
> And I can't find the way I'll defend  
> I can't find a way out
> 
> Sometimes I look at one of my stories and wonder how it came into being.
> 
> The convoluted process for building this story:
> 
> 1\. Stare at screen cap that won't leave you alone - it's telling a story, more than original movie.  
> 2\. Civilian clothing, 'Outcast' tag, John stays on Earth and Rodney arrives to bring him back.  
> 3\. Scan the hundreds of caps you already have saved to find what fits.  
> 4\. Take a shower - prime thinking time to decide why character looks so defeated in the dark.  
> 5\. More story line, John arrives back to talk to brother, but met by servant - brother dead.  
> 6\. Look up words/phrases free association: burden, debt, render/tender payment, release lien.  
> 7\. Lookup 'tender' in Wikipedia, follow link to song by Feeder (Shatter/Tender).  
> 8\. Read 'Tender' lyrics and discard, read 'Shatter' lyrics and...that's what you're looking for.  
> 9\. Title and lyrics provide emphasis to story, John giving up Atlantis/Rodney - debt of honor.  
> 10\. Search title in Yahoo - clear.  
> 11\. Open up Word and Photoshop...and go.


End file.
